


Whatever I Can Get

by Amonae



Series: Holiday Gifts 2016 [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Happy Ending, Identity Porn, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, M/M, Memory Loss, Minor Violence, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), mcu - Freeform, pseudo-villain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 20:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9513563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amonae/pseuds/Amonae
Summary: The Winter Soldier comes back to New York with a new goal: find Tony Stark. If only he were clear on the reasons why.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MassiveSpaceWren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MassiveSpaceWren/gifts).



> For [Wren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/massivespacewren), as part of my own personal holiday gift exchange. Thank you for being such an amazing spot of sunshine in this year of ick. And for all the wonderful plot bunnies you have forced upon me. ;)
> 
> I don’t know how this managed to get so far from what my brain thought of for ‘pseudo-villain’ but… I hope you still enjoy it! Happy holidays, Wren~! <3
> 
> I have to send a BIG thank you to [dapperanachronism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapperanachronism) for being the best damn spotter/pinch-hitting beta. This would be a mess without you. You are a freaking angel. And another huge round of applause to [robin_tcj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/robin_tcj) for going at this at the last possible moment. You guys are awesome.

It was all over the news.

The Winter Soldier, the ghost story spoken of in fearful whispers and hushed rumours, had emerged only to show himself in the most unlikely of places; at the edge of Central Park, in a corner store in Brooklyn, and according to the latest story, only a few scant blocks away from the Avengers tower. 

Tony had spent several sleepless nights reinforcing the security systems, ensuring that the armor was in full working order, ready to go at a moment’s notice. He didn’t know why the Winter Soldier was back in New York, why he was lurking so close to being caught, but he did know one thing—they certainly hadn’t parted on good terms.

Steve had called, once, on the burner phone that had been mailed so many months ago. His voice rang out with barely-contained panic as he spoke through the tinny speakers. “Tony. It’s Buck. He’s…”

This was bound to happen sooner or later. A dog without a master, off his leash and out in the world. Steve should have known better than to give the man free reign. He was programmed, a weapon that should be holstered. 

Tony froze halfway through the calculations he was running. There had been a sound, something from the hall. No one else should have access to this floor. 

“FRIDAY?”

“Boss, it is approximately three oh five in the morning. You are alone in the suite. Should I call Miss Potts?”

Tony scrubbed a hand across his beard. It was getting to the point of being unruly. He would have to deal with that in the morning. “No, no it’s fine. Don’t bother her. It’s late. Early. Whatever.”

“Of course, boss.”

He must have relaxed enough to fall asleep, slumped upright in bed, tablet hanging loosely from his fingers. Not that it felt like a reprieve when his unconscious thoughts were filled with the sounds of vibranium ringing in his ears, a metal hand closing cold fingers around his throat and _squeezing_ , tight, hot pain searing through his nerves.

Tony woke with a gasp, his body drenched in sweat and shuddering. He’d kicked off the blankets in the midst of his tossing and turning, and they were crumpled on the floor in a heap along with the tablet. Slipping to the edge of the bed and trembling at the chill, he went to retrieve the sheets. That’s when the realization hit him. 

If he was having a nightmare, and it had gotten bad enough for him to be throwing the linens off, FRIDAY should have woken him.

FRIDAY **didn’t** wake him.

“FRIDAY?” he tried into the darkness, swallowing around the thick lump of terror clutching at his throat, even harder than the icy fingertips in his dream. Silence greeted him in return and Tony clung to the blankets with a tense grip. His heart was thundering, pounding behind his temples, as wave after wave of panic rolled through him. 

And then he heard it. 

Barely a sound, barely even there, but the distinct rustle of someone shifting in a seat. 

He whirled to the only chair in the room—a large, overstuffed armchair in the shadowed corner, turned to face the king-sized bed. He didn’t even know why he had the fucking chair, but someone was there, concealed in the darkness. Tony’s blood turned to ice.

The bracelets to call the armor were on the bedside table, a few scant feet behind him. But if whoever it was had a gun—and he was betting they did—he was fucked either way. So he swallowed around his fear and spoke into the shadows instead.

“What do you want?” his voice at least sounded somewhat steady, thank god for that. 

“I remember.” The response was gravelly, heavy, as though whoever it was hadn’t spoken in a very, _very_ long time. 

Tony bit nervously at the inside of his lip. “What?” He pulled the blankets up higher, coming to the realization that he was standing there, facing an intruder in only his tight black briefs. Yeah, things probably couldn’t get too much worse. 

“I remember them.” The stranger repeated, moving to stand and—oh. There was the barest hint of light from the large windows, bouncing back from the slick surface of metal on the man’s left side. 

Shit.

_Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT._

“Back off,” Tony said, trying to sound solid and unwavering but it was hard when his mind was still clawing its way up from his earlier nightmare, back from the feel of those metal fingers locked tight around his windpipe. He thought, hysterically, that someone must have replaced the arm he’d blown off. He took a step back. Only three more of those and he could reach the cuffs.

“I remember them,” the intruder repeated, now stalking across the room, the light sweeping shadows across the hard angles of his face. He hadn’t shaved, not for a while, and his hair hung in limp strands around his jaw. “Howard. Maria. I remember.”

Tony froze then, the cold leaving his veins only to be replaced with a hot, fiery anger. He grit his teeth and spit the words between them like venom. “Do you remember how you fucking _murdered_ them?”

“Yes.” The answer came quick, no hesitation, and Tony knew this wasn’t good. Maybe he’d been brainwashed again while he was out gallivanting in New York. Maybe he’d never broken it to begin with, fooling Steve, fooling everyone around him into believing he was safe. 

It wasn’t until there were only a few feet between them that Tony realized he hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken. He’d stood there like an idiot, breath coming in hot, sharp gasps while this predator moved closer and closer. “Back off.”

“But mostly I remember you.” The Winter Soldier lifted his head, grey-blue eyes clear under a brow furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

Definitely brainwashed, then. Great. Just a few more movements and he could reach the bedside table…

“Don’t you remember?” Tony quipped, taking another step back, arm extending behind him, praying for his fingers to connect with the wood. “You and your buddy tried to kill me? Two on one, I was the guy in the fancy suit. Not a completely fair fight, come to think.”

“No, not then,” he said, shaking his head and staying put, not even making a move to stop Tony from grasping the edge of the dresser and sliding his hand across the surface. “From before.” 

His fingers were wrapped around the smooth metal and he was slipping it onto his wrist in a fluid motion before he could even absorb the words. They made his heart shudder and an ugly feeling like regret twist in his gut. “No. We didn’t know each other before,” he answered, licking his lips. Why was his throat so fucking dry? “We met in–”

“In Brooklyn. I was staying in a shitty apartment. You visited. Sometimes. We were–”

“No!” Tony screamed, his arm flying out and calling the suit’s repulsor to him. Crimson and gold encased his forearm, the palm lighting up with a whirr as he held it out before him. “No. You’re wrong. We weren’t anything. I didn’t know you before. Whoever that was, they’re dead. They never existed.”

The Winter Soldier stopped where he was, slowly lifting his hands, palms out, placating. His face was a weird jumble of emotions, all of it just screaming _Bucky_. But no, he wasn’t going there. He wasn’t going to think of the broke-ass apartment in Brooklyn with the mattress on the floor and the leak over the bathtub. He wasn’t going to think about secrets and shame and guilt all rolled into one and covered up with kisses and promises that would never be kept. He wasn’t going to think about how it might have been something more, if he had only been more careful, if…

“Leave.” Tony snapped, glowering down the length of his arm, ignoring the stinging in his eyes. 

“Tony, I–”

“LEAVE!” he barked, firing a blast, just shy of the soldier’s ear. The faint smell of singed hair, of smouldering plaster where the blast had settled itself into the drywall, drifted through the air. 

There was silence, then. Neither of them moved, neither made an attempt to fill the void with empty words. That never worked for them anyway. Time seemed to drag, to pass without really passing.

“I’m sorry.” The soldier’s voice was quiet, so quiet, even though the only other sound was the hum of the repulsor charging up again and the heavy pace of Tony’s heart. “I know it doesn’t count for shit, but I am. Sorry, that is. Shoot me if you want.” The Winter Soldier lowered his arms, his features concealed by an uneven curtain of hair as his gaze drifted to the floor.

It was a clear shot. Just one blast from the repulsor could rip through the soldier’s flesh and end this, end it once and for all. 

So why was his hand shaking?

“Do it.” The voice was soft and broken, defeated. He knew, in that moment, that the Wint—no, _Bucky_ —had come here truly expecting the outcome to be that he would die. That somehow, this would resolve things between them, would ease the ache and loss Tony felt in the pit of his stomach. 

He lowered his arm, the whine of the repulsor dimming to silence. “I don’t forgive you, you know.” 

There was an answering flinch. “I know.”

“But…” Tony hated the raspy sound in the back of his throat, coughing to try and clear it. “In time. Maybe.”

His heart was pained with a whole jumble of emotion when Bucky looked up, the hint of a smile, both unsure and shy, stretching across his features. “I’ll take whatever I can get.”

\------

_The sunlight streams through the tattered curtains, sprawling across the pair still curled up on the too-small mattress on the floor. With a groan, Tony buries his face into a broad shoulder._

_“S’too fucking early…”_

_There’s a soft chuckle, reverberating through the line of his jaw, and he opens his eyes just enough to glare at the man beneath him. It doesn’t seem to bother him at all, because he grins as he speaks. “You have to get up anyway. Interview with some fancy magazine or some such shit, ‘member?”_

_Tony buries his face again, mostly an excuse to nuzzle at the joint of flesh and metal, his lips peppering the scarred skin with kisses. “Don’t want to go.”_

_“But you have to,” he answers, brushing his fingers softly through strands of dark hair, digging into the knots of tension right at the base of Tony’s skull._

_With a grunt, Tony sighs and forces himself upright. He smiles at the sight of the other man, hair mussed by sleep and sex. Quick, he reaches out and runs his digits through the long strands, freeing a few tangles. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. But I…”_

_“I know,” comes the usual answer, Bucky grasping hold of Tony’s hand to press a gentle kiss to the palm. “But I’ll take whatever I can get.”_


End file.
